


Before

by IcyEarth (NovisMusica)



Series: The Author Projects Onto Podcast Characters [1]
Category: Antecedently Pod
Genre: Found Family, I Am In Pain That I Caused, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other, Smoking, Songfic, The Author Projects Onto Gay Podcast Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27155221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovisMusica/pseuds/IcyEarth
Summary: You’re singing like hallelujah
Relationships: Bailey (Antecedently)/Fish (Antecedently), Fish (Antecedently) & Lorrie (Antecedently)
Series: The Author Projects Onto Podcast Characters [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001442
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Before

**Author's Note:**

> I’d like to formally apologize to Fish’s brother Dishjamin and Wishiel for them not making it into the final cut of this fic. Have fun getting tacos gayboys.

_ It's not the words you say but how you say it _

_ I saved the picture where your hair was braided _

Fish cut their hair off for the first time at fourteen years old. She didn’t know Lorrie yet, but they kept a photo of it long. Not because they missed it, but because they thought she might. She never did, but she still kept the damn photo. It’s the only photo they had of themself before the age of seventeen, the only photo they have of herself Lorrie didn’t take. Fish didn’t have anyone else to take photos, but that was alright.

It’s fine.

_ They found your wallet in the cemetery _

_ You told your daughter she was ordinary _

Fish doesn’t remember much, of before. Just about everything is gone before the age of thirteen, and everything before eighteen is blurry and distorted, clear and terrifying one moment then gone the next. She remembers yelling. They remember a lot of cooking and then less yelling. She remembers cold and shaving someone’s head in a bathtub and shoplifting and then nothing for a few months. Getting a phone call about a court hearing and Lorrie going with them.

_ You hate the name Junior _

_ Your husband loved his computers _

She still isn’t totally sure what happened, but they know people who loved her were there. Brothers that weren’t Lorrie, a man in handcuffs, a woman trying to hug her. Lorrie gives the woman a bit of a look, the oldest of their brothers is waving her away. It turns out Fish’s dad isn’t going to prison for what he did to them, but for what he tried to do to the men upstairs. A bunch of fancy computer terms nobody really understood, that basically boiled down to ‘treason’. Fish isn’t even sure why she had to go to the trial in the first place.

_ Your mother never was one _

_ The eldest of seven children _

The woman shows up again when Lorrie is out running errands. Fish doesn’t want to let her in. Fish lets her in.

She sits on the couch and cries. Talks a lot, not that they can understand much. Eventually, Lorrie comes home. Asks what’s going on. Fish doesn’t move as tears roll down their face, just stares straight ahead at the woman, completely frozen. Lorrie locks the door behind her when she leaves, asks if they want a hug.

They sit together on that ratty old lounge chair for a long time. When Fish is able to move, she slowly walks to the bathroom, showers for over an hour, and sleeps for over fifteen. Lorrie doesn’t bring it up.

_ If you don't have it then you'll never give it _

_ And I don't blame you for the way you livin' _

Fish cooks a lot. Cries more. Believe it or not, that’s improvement. Spends less nights on the couch and more nights in bed. Spends less time looking in the mirror and less time stress cleaning and doesn’t get angry as often. Sometimes she doesn’t move for weeks. Sometimes they ask Lorrie questions, about how they met, about what she should do now. Somehow, she has a high school diploma. Eventually they sign up for classes at the college ten bus stops away. It feels like climbing a mountain sometimes, to get there, but the cute person that sits in front of her helps.

A lot of small things help.

_ The little boy was born in February _

_ You couldn't sober up to hold a baby _

One of their brothers had a baby. Fish wanted to go see them, congratulate them on having a whole new child in the world.

She eats ice cream and watches Golden Girls with Lorrie until two am and then they pass out cuddling together the night she was supposed to go. To be honest? They don’t feel bad about it. Not even a little bit bad. None.

_ You hate the name Donna _

_ You love to judge strangers' karma _

What Fish doesn’t expect is to get a card in the mail for her birthday. Certainly not one with a stranger's name on it. It doesn’t have a return address, and for a moment they think it has to do with that freaky book. But the handwriting is familiar and the last name was once their own. The first name was, too. Lorrie calls it a dead name and offers to take it down to the recycling. Fish declines, puts it in a drawer next to her bed full of things to be dealt with one day.

_ You drove from New Jersey _

_ The trucks always made you worry _

Five years after those days in court, Fish is twenty three. They have a brother, a partner, a degree, a job, a haunted book, and a driver’s license. They make dinner on a three day rotation and whoever cooked gets to pick what they watch after they eat.

A man introducing himself as Junior, your dad, kiddo, calls. Fish briefly debates asking where he got her number, but instead they just hang up. Bailey blocks his number for them. She falls asleep at eleven and doesn’t have a single nightmare.

_ Hold my hand now, time to _

_ Go to bed it's way too late _

The next night Fish is wracked with nightmares. Up and down and up and down, until they give up and wander to the living room. She throws a jacket on, goes downstairs and out in front of their apartment building for a smoke, watching rain clouds form in the distance. Lorrie comes down five minutes later, doesn’t even say anything.

She hugs him, and it doesn’t mind if his sweater is a little tear damp or if it smells like smoke.

_ You hate the name Donna _

_ You love to judge strangers' karma _

When they finally dig the letter back out of the drawer, the envelope has actually gone a bit yellow with age. It’s from her mother, and it’s a generic store bought happy birthday card. It would have been for their nineteenth birthday, but the inside says happy twenty first! Happy first glass. And Fish doesn’t even care. They white out the name Donna on the envelope and write Fish overtop, carefully, then she reseals the card inside, and puts it back in the drawer.

_ You drove from New Jersey _

_ The trucks always made you worry _

Lorrie sits Bailey and Fish down one night, says they need to all have a family meeting over ice cream and Golden Girls. Fish’s father has been calling Lorrie nonstop from multiple phones. The police, as usual, are useless and Lorrie is worried he’s going to get violent.

Everyone agrees to keep an eye out, be careful.

It doesn’t come to anything.

_ You raised a saint, Donna _

_ You love to judge strangers' karma _

Fish burns the letter, eventually. It helps a little bit. A little bit is enough.

_ You're praying for a funeral _

_ You're singing like Hallelujah _

Fish and Bailey get engaged two days after Fish’s father dies. Fish doesn’t find out he’s dead until two weeks later. She wishes she cared.

_ You're singing like Hallelujah _

_ You're singing like Hallelujah _

The ceremony is gorgeous, not a lot of people but enough. Lorrie isn’t the only of Fish’s brothers to come, and more than one kid is present. It’s incredible that Fish has a family, a home, a future, to know it will be calm and peaceful and maybe a bit haunted, but aren’t the best things?

_ You're singing like Hallelujah _

_ You're singing like Hallelujah _

Their hair stays short but her nails get a bit longer, she still doesn’t remember much but that’s okay. They don’t need to. They’re okay. Everyone is okay.

It’s fine, for real this time.


End file.
